


Make Them Pay

by meleonon



Series: Dark Queen and her Dark Knight [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark!Dany, Dark!Jorah, F/M, Mad Queen AU, Mad Queen Daenerys Targaryen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-06 14:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meleonon/pseuds/meleonon
Summary: “To the start of a new era.”An alternate universe where Daenerys and Jorah are both dark and cruel, ever paranoid and willing to shed blood to ensure that no dispute comes to Daenerys' claim to the Iron Throne.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since so many people were interested in an expansion of the au universe of The Things You Love Destroy You Everytime, I decided to write this story.  
I will say, this story did not turn out to end happily...for anyone really. So you have been warned.  
Anyways, if you decide to stick through this admittedly not so happy story I am really thankful and I hope you enjoy it!

His father had always told everyone that Winter was coming, but now that the snowflakes were falling from the sky and starting to pile on the ground, mixing with the ash, Jon Snow found himself wishing for spring.

The fiery mess that had once been King’s Landing was slowly burning out, the hundreds if not thousands of dead soldiers and innocents alike lay dead while the few that survived Daenerys’ onslaught searched for their loved ones or mourned the ones already found.

Jon hadn’t thought she was capable of the massacre she had unleased upon the city, but then again, Ygritte had always told him he knew nothing and this had been no different it seemed.

Sighing heavily, Jon looked around at the remaining northern men wearily.

They were going to head back north as soon as they could, Jon wanted nothing more to do with Daenerys or the south.

He had told Tyrion, with a heavy heart, that he couldn’t kill Daenerys like they had planned.

_“Your heart blinds you Jon. You know as well as I do, what she did is unforgivable.”_

_“It’s not that I wasn’t going to try, I would have had to fight Ser Jorah to get to her and I’m tired Tyrion. Tired of fighting all the time. You’re going to have to find another way to end her if you want, I don’t want any more to do with this.”_

Their brief conversation ended abruptly when Jon left, not wanting to argue with the dwarf nor be manipulated into killing Daenerys.

“M’lord, someone wants ta talk to you. A knight.” A man of the north told him, coming over to stand a small distance away.

“Who?” Jon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to think of who could be wanting to talk to him, but the man couldn’t say who exactly the man was, so Jon followed him further away from the camp to where the knight was waiting.

“Ser Jorah? What are you doing here?” Jon asked warily, the last time he had seen the other man, the knight seemed ready to fight him to defend Daenerys.

But seeing him there, looking as nervous as he had ever seen the normally stoic man made Jon wonder.

“I needed to talk to you. Privately if possible.” Ser Jorah’s eyes darted over to the northern man who had led Jon to him.

Jon nodded to the other man, watching as the man returned to the camp to continue preparing everything for their return to the north.

Following Ser Jorah even further away from the camp made Jon feel a bit nervous himself, but he figured there was a reason for the knight to have come all this way.

“What did you need to talk to me about?” Jon asked, walking a few paces behind the older man.

“Daenerys.” The Mormont said, turning his head slightly to look at Jon over his shoulder.

“What about her?” He wasn’t sure where Jorah stood on his position with the Targaryen currently, Jon had seen signs of doubt on the man’s face when Jon had confronted her about her actions, but he had ultimately defended the woman he had protected for the past eight or so years.

Perhaps he was having a change of heart?

“When you came to the throne room to talk to her...” Jorah paused is his walking and turned around to face Jon.

“You were planning on ending her life correct?”

Jon felt his blood run cold at the statement, but he nodded nonetheless, watching the way Jorah almost deflated.

“She massacred King’s Landing last night. Who’s to say she won’t do worse if she becomes queen?” Jon said, his hand resting on Longclaw tightly and he saw the way that Jorah’s eyes dropped down to the sword that had once been his before he met his gaze.

“Perhaps you are right. No one knows.” Jorah sighed tiredly, turning around and leading Jon even further into the woods surrounding King’s Landing.

They walked in silence and Jon could feel that Jorah was struggling with deciding what was the right thing to do.

“You know, years ago I sold poachers into slavery in an attempt to keep my wife happy. She was expensive and ways always unhappy on Bear Island, yet I tried everything to keep her happy.” Jorah started saying, confusing Jon with where this conversation had come from, but he listened nonetheless.

“I’ve always asked myself whether, knowing that she would leave me within the year, if I would do the same again and every time I end up with the same answer.” Ser Jorah stopped walking then, turning and facing Jon, his face gloomy and weary.

“I’m the only one still alive that watched Daenerys walk out of Khal Drogo’s funeral pyre with her children. I had thought her dead, but seeing her rise from the ashes of the pyre with three baby dragons was nothing short of a miracle and I’ve followed her ever since.” Jon furrowed his eyebrows at the sudden change in topic again, but he remained silent and just let the other man talk.

“She gave my life purpose. Before her, I was just an exiled knight that had disgraced his house for the love of a woman. But Daenerys gave my life meaning again and I am forever grateful to her for that reason.” Jorah sighed deeply, his blue eyes, eyes that reminded Jon of Lord Commander Mormont, stormy and torn.

“I’m not saying I condone what she did last night, in fact I would have advised her against it if I could have, but she has a mind of her own and does as she pleases.”

“So you will just stand back and watch as she kills hundreds of innocents? What she did was unforgivable and punishable by death.” Jon told the old knight, seeing the way the other man’s gaze dropped down to the ground.

“No...I won’t stand by and watch her massacre Westeros.” Jorah agreed quietly and met Jon’s eyes, walking over to him and resting his hand heavily on Jon’s shoulder.

The deep sorrow and regret in Jorah’s eyes made Jon sad, he couldn’t imagine the storm that must be raging in Jorah’s heart.

Jon had watched as Ygritte died in his arms and that had left him broken inside, but he couldn’t imagine having to watch the love of his life go mad and then have to kill her himself.

White hot pain shot through his ribs and he met Jorah’s eyes in surprise before looking down to where the dagger had gone into his chest.

Jorah took a step back, leaving the dagger right where he had stabbed it into the true heir to the Iron Throne’s chest.

Sliding Heartsbane out of the sheath, Jorah frowned slightly as Jon tried to pull the blade out from between his ribs.

“I’ll be by her side and give her the support she needs. I will never abandon her.” The bear islander said, his voice emotionless yet full of emotion at the same time, emotion for his queen.

“Going back to my answer to whether I’d sell those poachers again if given the option...” Jorah continued talking as if Jon wasn’t bleeding profusely in front of him, growing woozy from the loss of blood.

“I’d sell all of Bear Island if it meant I got to meet Daenerys and be by her side.” The breath left Jon as he realized that Jorah had purposefully led him away from the camp alone so he could kill him without anyone being able to intervene.

“Give my regards to Eddard won’t you Jon?” Jorah asked darkly, icy blue gaze fixed on the sheen of Heartsbane.

The last thing Jon saw was the glint of the Valyrian steel sword given to the knight by Jon’s own best friend as it arced towards him.

*****

Tyrion tried to keep his head high as the Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers led him to the throne room.

Walking towards the Iron Throne as he had done dozens of times before, Tyrion took note of all the Targaryen banners that now adorned the walls and pillars, letting anyone walking in to know just who ruled over them now.

He met Daenerys’ cold violet gaze as she sat on the chair that so many people coveted and killed others for. The lack of emotion on her normally expressive face sent chills down Tyrion’s back as he came to a stop below the stairs that led up to the Throne.

She wore her black dress and red dragon scale cloak, her silver hair braided more fiercely than Tyrion ever remembered her wearing before.

_‘The Dothraki braid their hair for each victory they achieve’ _He recalled and it unnerved him to see her counting last night as a victory.

He quickly noticed that Ser Jorah wasn’t by her side and he wondered where the old knight could be for the older man, at times, seemed like her shadow, always just a few paces behind the silver haired woman.

“Tyrion Lannister. You know the reasons for you being summoned here today?” Queen Daenerys’ voice boomed through the still dilapidated room, snow drifting in from the holes that Drogon had wrought in the ceiling during her attack on the city.

“Something that I’m sure I’ve already been judged guilty for.” Tyrion quipped back in poor taste, grunting when the Dothraki behind him kicked him in the back and knocked him onto his face.

“Are you guilty?” Daenerys questioned and Tyrion honestly wondered what had happened to her as he pushed himself up from the ground.

She used to be a kind woman who masked her emotions for the most part, but not to the extent that she seemed cold and detached.

“Guilty of what exactly?” Tyrion raised his shackled hands slightly, cocking an eyebrow in question.

“Conspiring with Jon Snow to have me assassinated?”

The breath left Tyrion then, blindsided with the accusation.

Jon hadn’t succeeded in his attempt on her life and he seriously hoped that Jon wouldn’t have come out and told her about his and Tyrion’s plan to keep her off the throne, so how had she drawn that conclusion?

Tyrion didn’t speak for a while, trying to formulate how to get out of this without losing his head.

Daenerys was displeased with his silence and stood up, staring him down with a deep glower.

_‘Seems she is picking some mannerisms up from Mormont.’ _He noted, watching her walk down the steps from the throne over to where he stood in chains.

“Are you guilty?” She repeated blankly, meeting his eyes with no emotion, her gaze seeming far away as if she was staring out into a vast meadow or across the sandy desert with no clear ending in sight.

“I’m as guilty as Jon Snow is.” Tyrion stated tiredly, knowing there wasn’t any way to convince her otherwise.

Daenerys, he had found, was stubborn and adamant when it came to her decisions and Ser Jorah was the only one that has ever been able to convince her to change her chosen course of action.

_‘Too bad Mormont isn’t here right now. Perhaps he could help an old friend out of a sticky situation.’ _But Tyrion knew that this was only fancy thinking, he knew that Mormont would gladly remove his head if he felt he was a threat to Daenerys.

Head turning to see who had entered the throne room when the door swung open, Tyrion was rewarded with another kick to the back by the Dothraki man.

“Your Grace.” A familiar voice greeted and Tyrion met Ser Jorah’s gaze when the other man walked past him to kneel before the Queen.

“Ser Jorah. You’ve returned.” A twinkle appeared in Daenerys’ eyes when she looked upon her knight, giving Tyrion the idea that Mormont was the only one that she showed any emotion to any more.

“You have succeeded in your mission?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow at him with a gentle smile and it amazed Tyrion, how different she acted around Jorah compared to everyone else.

“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.” He replied, standing up and moving to stand beside her, facing Tyrion with a trademarked Mormont glower.

“Tyrion has admitted to being as guilty as Jon Snow in the assassination attempt.” Daenerys informed Jorah, her gaze focused solely on the Bear Islander.

Ser Jorah turned to his queen, his expression lightening when he looked upon her before hardening as he returned his attention to Tyrion.

“Jon Snow admitted to the assassination attempt, which makes you equally guilty Imp.” Ser Jorah declared and Tyrion’s heart dropped out of his chest.

Shaking his head, he looked between Mormont and Daenerys, his eyes pleading with them to forgive him.

He met Jorah’s eyes, silently begging him to understand.

“Surely you aren’t blind to the destruction that Drogon brought on her orders? All the innocent people that were murdered by her. I know that you love her, but somewhere inside of you there is a knightly honor that tells you this is wrong.” Tyrion pleaded with the knight, trying to ignore the way that Daenerys’ eyes darkened on him and she frowned deeply, resting her hand on Jorah’s bicep.

“You’re wrong you know. You can’t be right on everything, but I will say you are correct in saying I love her.” He admitted, glancing over at Daenerys with a ghost of a smile before looking back at the man that he had travelled through Essos with.

“I love Daenerys more than anything.” Tyrion noticed the soft smile that came over the woman’s face at his declaration, but he kept his attention on Mormont.

“As for my knightly honor...” Shifting away a bit from Daenerys, Jorah pulled the bag he was carrying on his shoulder down and dumped its contents on the floor in front of him.

Tyrion had to keep himself from fainting when Jon Snow’s decapitated head rolled towards him and stopped in front of his feet, the man’s lifeless eyes seemingly staring at him unblinkingly.

Meeting Mormont’s cold eyes, Tyrion shook his head, breathing heavily out of his nose in both anger and an attempt to keep himself from vomiting.

“I have as much ‘knightly honor’ as Jon has a head.” Jorah grunted, letting the bloody bag fall to the floor as he crossed his arms across his broad chest and Tyrion couldn’t find any amusement out of his ill formed jape.

“Those ‘innocents’ both you and Jon complain so much about, they mean nothing to me. Only Daenerys matters and I would watch them all burn if it means I get to be by her side.” Tyrion hadn’t thought Jorah had it in him to be so callous and heartless, he had always taken the older knight to be a caring, if not slightly cold man, but this...this didn’t make sense.

“What would your father say if he heard and saw this?” Tyrion questioned, hoping that there was still a shred of honor in Mormont, but when he was punched in the face, a few teeth getting knocked loose from Jorah’s heavy hit, he knew that the knight was a lost cause.

“Don’t you dare try and use my father as a way to wheedle out of your crimes dwarf.” Tyrion frowned at the way Jorah growled at him, his ice blue eyes shooting flames from them at him.

“That’s enough. You’ve admitted your guilt and your crime is punishable by death. Your execution shall take place at dawn tomorrow.” Daenerys stated, turning her back on her hand-of-the-queen and leading Mormont away.

“Sansa will hear about mine and Jon’s death and she won’t sit back idly, she will demand justice be brought.” Tyrion yelled out at the duo, watching how they paused in their movement to glance back at him.

“And when she does, she will suffer the same fate as the both of you.” Daenerys stated coldly then continued on her way, her arm looping through Jorah’s as they left Tyrion to be dragged down to the cells to await his execution on the morrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad so many people seem to be enjoying this story so far! I have to say my favorite thing about reading all the comments has been seeing the amount of people that were happy to see Jon die, I honestly wasn't expecting that.
> 
> I want to reiterate that this story doesn't end up happily for anyone, just want to put that out there so it's not that big of a surprise when it happens.

Arya wandered around the camp, searching for Jon but was unable to find where her brother _(cousin) _had disappeared to.

The northern men were actively working to ready the horses and themselves for the long trek back north, all of them were grateful to be leaving the much too warm and bloody south for their cold, snowy northern homes.

No one paused to even cast Arya a glance as she walked past them in her futile search.

“Has anyone seen Jon?” She eventually called out, one man raising his head from his work to look at her.

“Aye, he’s off talking to some knight.” The man told her, making her furrow her eyebrows in confusion.

_What knight was Jon talking to? Ser Davos? Ser Jaime perhaps?_

“Can you tell me where they are at?” Arya asked the man who nodded pointing in the direction he had led Jon to.

Thanking the man, she set off to find Jon, frowning when she realized she couldn’t hear any one talking.

There were no signs of life to be heard anywhere, no muffled murmurings, no raised yelling, no sorrowful bemoaning.

Nothing.

It wasn’t until she came across a clearing that her heart plummeted, the sight of a body dressed in black northern clothing slumped over on the ground with blood pooling and melting the surrounding snow sent her running.

Grabbing the dead man’s shoulder, she about screamed when she flipped the body onto its back and realized there was no head.

Nor was the head anywhere to be seen she noticed.

She knew it was Jon’s body, there was no doubt in her mind.

Arya knew then that she was going to kill whoever was responsible for murdering Jon, in the slowest and most painful way possible, she just needed to find out who had done it.

Standing up from the headless corpse, she noted that the cut was a clean one, likely done by a Valyrian steel sword, so that narrowed down the possible culprits.

Then she noticed that Jon’s sword, Longclaw, was missing and it made her wonder if the assailant had taken the sword and used it to murder Jon or taken it after Jon was dead.

Either way, if she found Longclaw then she knew she found the man who had murdered her brother.

Storming back to the camp, she went over to the man that had pointed her in the right direction and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“Who was Jon talking to?” She growled at him, her voice cold.

“I-I told you. It was a knight...” He stuttered, shaking in his boots and terrified for his life.

“I heard that, but I need to know _who._” Arya emphasized, her dark eyes pinning the man and telling him that this was a serious matter.

“I-I don’t know his name...but he’s a taller man. Pretty sure he’s from the north, he had a vague northern accent...but I’m not sure.” He offered and Arya let him go.

_A knight from the North, that narrows it down to pretty much one man._

_Ser Jorah Mormont._

_Right hand of Daenerys Targaryen._

Spinning around, Arya stormed away, furious as she realized that Daenerys had sent her knight to murder Jon so he couldn’t push his claim to the throne she swore was hers.

She was going to kill Ser Jorah for murdering Jon, Arya could care less if the disgraced man was just Daenerys’ pawn, she was unable and unwilling to forgive this heinous crime.

After the knight was dealt with, Arya was going to enjoy ending the Dragon Queen’s life and pay her back all the suffering she has brought with her.

*****

Lips finding his in the dimly lit room, Daenerys shifted on top of Jorah, back curved as she leaned over him as her hair created a curtain around their faces.

Her thin fingers were laced with his, the callouses from the years he spent with a sword and on horseback rubbed against her soft skin and created shivers down her back.

Pulling her lips from his, she met his blue eyes hungrily, moving her hands from his down his chest to rest on his lower stomach, her fingers toying with the hem of his breeches with a smirk.

“Tell me something Jorah, how’d it feel when you killed Jon?” she hummed curiously, sliding her fingers into his breeches, but not far enough to touch his hardness and she grinned when his eyebrow twitched.

“Much the same as when I’ve killed other people I guess.” He said breathily, tilting his hips up to try and create some friction on his raging arousal.

Daenerys ground her hips against his, causing him to groan throatily and fixed him with a displeased look.

“That’s not what I meant.” She told him firmly, keeping her hips pressed against his and enjoying the feeling of his desire for her underneath her arse.

“Then...what?” Jorah breathed out shakily, not wanting to displease his queen, but it was hard to focus on what she was saying when she kept grinding her bare bottom on his clothed cock, her naked breasts bouncing in his face while she toyed with the skin so close to his erection without actually doing anything.

Leaning over him again, his eyes dropped to her perfect breasts for a moment before meeting her amused eyes.

“Tell me what he looked like when you killed him. What look did he have in his eyes when you stabbed him in the heart? What did he say?” Daenerys whispered softly and if you weren’t paying attention to what she was saying, you would have thought she was telling her man sweet nothings and declarations of love.

Jorah swallowed deeply, trapped in her gaze as he started telling her what she wanted to hear.

“He was trying to get me to join him in taking you out. He didn’t realize I had come to kill him, that I was loyal to you.” He started, squirming when her fingers slid further into his breeches, gently touching where he wanted her to.

“He got this almost sad and regretful look on his face, a look that he aimed at me as if he were sorry that...” Jorah groaned as she finally wrapped her hand around his erection before swallowing and continuing.

“As if he were sorry that I would have to watch you die or kill you myself. If only he knew the truth...” His breathing became heavier as her hand slid over his cock a few times before she shifted, pulling his breeches down his hips so they rested on his lower thighs.

“When...when the knife...when I plunged the knife into his chest...” Throwing his head back as she sunk down on him, her body melding with his in the most intimate of ways, Jorah panted and grabbed her hips in his hands, momentarily forgetting what he had been saying before.

“You were right when you stabbed Jon...” Daenerys said when he remained silent for a while, her hips refusing to move until he continued.

“Right...” He replied huskily, his eyes meeting hers.

“When I plunged the knife into Jon’s chest, his sorrowful expression changed into pure, unadulterated shock, as if he hadn’t...ugh...hadn’t expected me to...” Jorah tried to keep talking, but when she was rolling her hips against his, taking him in deeper and forcefully, he found it was so hard to focus.

“Hadn’t expected you kill him?” Daenerys offered, her hands slayed on Jorah’s belly as she rode him enthusiastically.

“Aye...” He agreed, snapping his hips up to hers and making her moan deeply.

“He...he stared at me in shock as he bled out and I...didn’t care...all I could think of was you, my queen. Oh fuck Khaleesi...” He groaned as she clenched down on him, her laughter echoing through the room.

“You’re such a good boy Jorah...” She said between moans as he pounded into her from below.

Letting him take the lead with their movements, Daenerys dug her fingernails into his chest, trying her hardest to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Gods Jorah! I wish I was there when you removed that traitor’s head.” She told him, her voice raspy and mirthful as he flipped them over so he was on top of her.

Jorah buried his face into her neck, never pausing in the movement of his hips as he panted against her skin and listened to the way she was nearly screaming in pleasure underneath him.

“I-I wish I could have watched the way...gods...the way his head separated from his body and landed on the ground with a wet thud.” She grunted, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, finally shoving his breeches from his legs with her feet as he ploughed into her without abandon.

“I wish I could have...seen the look in your eyes when...when you swung the sword to remove his head...” Daenerys could feel the way he altered his thrusts, the way they became more rapid and more erratic. He was getting close.

“Was it like a beast I wonder? Like a bear?” She groaned, tightening her legs around his waist and tilting her head so it was pressed firmly against his.

“We...could have fucked next to his decapitated body like a couple of animals in heat.” Daenerys said, panting into his ear and setting him over the edge with a bearlike roar, which then in turn set her own climax off, her fingernails digging into his back and leaving bloody marks in the skin.

Jorah collapsed onto her, his heavy weight pinning her to the bed. Running her fingers through his sweaty hair, Daenerys pressed a kiss to his temple before shoving at his shoulder for him to roll off her as his weight was too much to deal with for long periods of time.

With a grunt, Jorah rolled from her so he laid on his back next to her, his eyes searching hers out and his hand reached out to cup her cheek softly.

She leaned into the touch, smiling gently at him and kissing his palm, taking his hand in hers as her thumb rubbed his knuckles.

Back cracking as she stretched, Daenerys released his hand back to him and rolled over so she was pressed against his side.

“Hmm, you did a good job Ser.” She hummed, running her hand down Jorah’s naked back, her fingers drawing patterns using his greyscale scars as a template.

“With the sex...or killing Jon Snow?” He asked blearily in amusement, opening an eye to look at her.

“Both.” She whispered, pressing her lips to his cheek before standing up out of the bed and wrapping her coat over her shoulders.

Jorah huffed in amusement, pushing himself up with shaky arms.

He loved her, of that he had no doubt, but she sure was demanding when they had sex and she tired him out more than he’d like to admit.

Jorah watched as she poured herself and him a glass of wine while he slipped his trousers over his hips and belted them on.

Taking the chalice from her, he toasted with her when she raised hers in the air.

“To the start of a new era.” Clinking their glasses together, Jorah sipped the bitter wine with distaste.

He wasn’t much of a wine person, preferring the heavy ales of the north, but he sipped on the drink politely.

“It’ll be sad to see Tyrion die, but he is getting what any traitor deserves.” Daenerys mused and Jorah nodded slowly, his past crimes against her coming to the forefront of his mind when she said that.

He was lucky he realized, that she was a gentle woman back when his betrayal had been brought to light and she had been fond enough of him to grant him the mercy of exile instead of death.

She was right though, seeing the Lannister die was going to be sad since he had come to respect the man, however much the dwarf got his nerves at times.

Placing the half-filled goblet on the table, Jorah finished dressing and getting ready to start his duties for the rest of the day.

Daenerys closed the distance between them when he was done strapping both his swords onto his hips.

She ran her fingers over the wolf head pommel of Longclaw, a small detail that had irritated him when he had seen his house’s sword again as it should have been a bear’s head, her fingers trailing from the sword up his chest to pause on his lips.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side Jorah.” She said quietly, her hand moving from his lips to rest on his cheek.

“I will never abandon you.” He told her, seeing the way her eyes became distant and she shook her head slowly.

“I know. But something may happen to you and I won’t be able to save you.” Her voice was melancholic and he winced slightly when she suddenly dug her fingernails into his cheek, drawing lines into his face as she spun around in a fit of fury.

“If you die Jorah, I don’t think I will be able to hold myself back from taking revenge upon everyone who was responsible.” Daenerys turned around quickly and gripped his tunic firmly, staring into his eyes intensely.

He wondered, at times, where the gentle girl who had told him that he was her strength and wanted to save all the slaves from the only life they had ever known had gone.

But then she’d smash her lips to his in a fit of passion, just as she was doing currently, and all those thoughts would fade away and he’d bury his fingers in her silver hair and kiss her back, his stubbly beard leaving her face red.

Pulling away from him and the kiss she started, she eyed him, patting his chest plate adoringly.

“Do be careful tonight Ser.” Daenerys ordered him then turned to head out onto her balcony and leave Jorah to his duties.

Bowing to her, even though she had her back turned to him, Jorah left the bedroom, ensuring that the Dothraki and Unsullied guards were watching over her door before he headed further into the Red Keep.

He was searching the grounds to determine what they needed to fix up, many of the rooms needed remodeled or simply rebuilt since Drogon had done a good job in destroying the stone building when Daenerys had taken back her throne.

“Lord Mormont?” A voice called out when he was in the middle of opening a door to a room he had no idea what purpose it held.

Turning his head to look at the other man as he shuffled over, Jorah rested his hand on the hilt of Longclaw, seeing the way the man’s gaze dropped to the sword and fury glinted in it before returning to his eyes.

“And who are you?” Jorah questioned warily, sliding Longclaw out of the sheath by a small amount so he could draw it quickly if need be. He had no idea who the man was and he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Excuse my poor manners.” The man bowed his head slightly, holding his arms out in a way that showed he held no weapons in his hands.

“Petyr Baelish. I worked in King Robert’s council for many years and I was hoping to work for the rightful Queen.” The man’s smooth voice declared, making Jorah narrow his eyes at him skeptically.

“From what I remember, King Robert’s council tried to have Daenerys assassinated years ago.” Jorah stated, his hand never leaving his sword nor letting Baelish any closer.

The other man froze for a second before nodding slowly.

“Aye, that they did. I never trusted Varys though, he was the one behind that little scheme.” Baelish conceded, folding his hands into his sleeves in a way that had Jorah on edge.

He suddenly remembered where he had heard the man’s name and the other moniker that he was better known as.

_Littlefinger._

“Was he really? That’s funny since he warned me about the attempt on her life in time for me to save her life.” Jorah recalled the way his pardon arrived moments before the wine seller had tried to poison Daenerys.

Of course, the message hadn’t come right out and told him about the assassination attempts, but Jorah had been smart enough to figure out that the arrival of his royal pardon meant that there wasn’t going to be any news about Daenerys to report on very soon.

Again, Littlefinger paused and Jorah narrowed his eyes at the man suspiciously. Littlefinger was watching a pair of Unsullied wander by as they searched the keep for any stragglers or anyone they deemed strange, before turning his attention back to Jorah.

“Varys had this way about him, you could never figure out what was going on in his head. I personally never trusted eunuchs.” Littlefinger spoke with an air of superiority that had Jorah bristling, but he masked his disdain and nodded.

“And why should the Queen trust you?” Jorah prodded, cocking an eyebrow at the man and making it known he wasn’t quick to give trust.

“I know how Westeros works, that and the queen will need large quantities of money if she plans on rebuilding King’s Landing. Money that I can get for her.” Littlefinger offered with a slimy smile and Jorah sighed, then shrugged.

“Follow me then, talk to me about your worth.” Jorah opened the door into the room he had been planning on entering before Littlefinger had shown up, waving his hand to let the other man head in first.

“Oh believe me, I’m sure you’ll find that I’m worth hav-“ Littlefinger froze when Jorah wrapped his arm around his neck as he walked past the old knight into the room, Longclaw pressed into the small of his back hard enough to draw blood.

“I wouldn’t have trusted the actual Littlefinger and I sure as hell am not going to trust Littlefinger back from the dead.” Jorah hissed into the other man’s ear, pressing Longclaw into his back more when he started struggling in his grasp.

“Who or what are you?” Jorah growled at the man, cutting off his air by using his height to his advantage and bringing the other man up off the ground with his arm pressed firmly against his throat.

“Damn you!” Littlefinger spat at him in fury, still trying to struggle in his hold, but utterly unable to break free from the older knights grasp.

Jorah grunted in pain when he felt a dagger slice into his side, right below where his armor ended and he growled in annoyance, stabbing Longclaw all the way through Littlefinger’s torso and pushing the other man to the floor.

Bringing his hand up to judge the severity of his cut, he was glad to see it wasn’t that large and wouldn’t be life threatening if he got it dealt with soon.

Storming over to Littlefinger, who was feebly trying to stop the bleeding in his gut, Jorah grabbed him by the throat and picked him up.

“One last time, who are you?” Littlefinger struggled weakly in his hold, spitting saliva and blood at his face.

Jorah dropped him then stabbed Longclaw into his chest, right into his heart and watched him seize for a moment before going still, his eyes glazing over as he died.

Pulling Longclaw out, he wiped the blood off on Littlefinger’s shirt before replacing the sword in its sheath and bending down to check the man over.

Finding nothing of interest beyond the Valyrian steel dagger that he fastened to his hip, Jorah stood and headed out of the room to inform the guards what had happened before he made his way to Daenerys’ room.

“Your Grace.” He greeted, smiling softly at her when she turned to grin at him widely before her face morphed into one of shock and fear.

“Ser! You are bleeding!” Rushing over to him, Daenerys placed her hands over the small cut on his side, glaring at him when he tried to argue that she shouldn’t worry about it.

“What happened Jorah?” She questioned as she forcefully led him out of the room and down to the maester’s quarters.

“Someone posing to be Littlefinger approached me and was trying to get me to accept them into your council.” He informed her, but from the confused look on her face he remembered that she wouldn’t know who he was.

“Littlefinger, or Petyr Baelish, worked for King Robert for years. According to Varys, last year Sansa had him executed, so I’m sure you can understand my skepticism when he suddenly shows up wanting to work for you.” Jorah told her, watching how her eyes darkened at the news.

“He wasn’t a wight, but I couldn’t figure out how he was living and breathing though.” She nodded solemnly, pushing him into the maester’s old quarters and making him sit down.

She dug through some of the medicinal supplies that the previous maester had left when he died and found some things she felt could help.

“Do...you even know what you are doing with all that?” Jorah questioned her warily, dropping his gaze when she shot him a displeased look.

“Of course I do. Now stop complaining.” Daenerys huffed, grabbing a salve and a needle, coming to stand in front of him and cocking her eyebrow.

Taking the hint, he removed his armor and his tunic and let her do as she pleased.

Sewing the wound shut, she was impressed on how he barely made a noise of pain, even when she wasn’t perhaps the most gentle in her ministrations.

She did smile though, when he cursed in pain after she rubbed some of the salve she had found over the closed wound, his eyes screwed shut as he breathed deeply out through his nose.

Laughing gently, Daenerys placed the jar on the table next to him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“There, all better now. You were such a brave bear.” She cooed to him, watching the way he cracked his eyes open to look at her, the pain of whatever she rubbed on the wound still pulsing through his body and telling him that it wasn’t a pain reliever as she had suspected.

“Thank you, my Queen.” He gritted out, his eyes watering as the burning intensified immensely.

“You’re welcome. Do be more careful next time.” Daenerys scolded him like he was a child before helping stand up and putting his shirt back on.

Hissing in pain as his tunic settled on the sutured wound, he let out a deep sigh as he prepared himself to put on his armor, his reluctance showing through on his face.

“Oh stop being a baby and just put your damn armor already Ser.” Daenerys snapped at him suddenly, making him look over at her in surprise.

Without a word, Jorah put his armor on, the heavy weight of the protective plate resting painfully on the wound, but he wouldn’t protest lest Daenerys get angry with him again.

He would deny her nothing after all.

He was hers in body, mind and soul, nothing would make him waiver in his love and belief in her.

No matter how much she hurt him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the slightly longer wait for this chapter, I've been struggling editing everything to be how I want it to be, taking some stuff out, putting in more stuff...it has been a process for sure. So I hope that it still flows well.

The survivors of Daenerys’ attack of King’s Landing gathered in the Dragonpit warily, their eyes shifting in fear and anticipation as Daenerys and Ser Jorah walked silently to the center of the arena to where Tyrion was being guarded by a group of Dothraki.

Men, women and children alike gazed upon the dwarf curiously, their eyes occasionally darting to the very large dragon that was perched on the wall and watching the people with disinterest, his amber eyes always returning to his mother.

Then their eyes would go to the newest ruler of Westeros, her silver hair and violet eyes an uncommon sight for the people of King’s Landing and they found her scary and awe-inducing in equal measures.

Daenerys paused in front of the Lannister, casting her cold gaze upon him as the entire place went silent.

“Tyrion Lannister. You are accused of treason and attempted assassination. What say you to these accusations?” Daenerys’ voice echoed through the Dragonpit.

Tyrion looked up at her, shooting a glance at the knight that stood by her side before sighing and letting his head droop.

Daenerys smirked at his defeated posture, only to frown when he lifted his head again and met her gaze furiously.

“I demand a trial by combat. It’s my right to demand one.” She glowered at him, her eyes drifting around to the people of King’s Landing who had listened to and obeyed her demand that they attend the Lannister’s trial.

“Fine, you shall get your trial by combat.” She snapped angrily at him, wanting to hit his triumphant smile off his face, her violet eyes thunderous and fiery.

“And I get to name my champion.” He announced loudly, almost as if he were hoping that someone would offer to be his champion, but no one did.

“And I will name mine.” Daenerys growled and Tyrion couldn’t help but sigh, he knew that, even though Ser Jorah was colder and more callous than Tyrion remembered, he was going to be sad to see the northern man die should Tyrion’s champion win.

Tyrion turned his head to where Ser Bronn of the Blackwater was standing, his eyes hopeful.

“Bronn? Perhaps you could help out an old friend one last time?”

Bronn cocked an eyebrow, his eyes moving to Daenerys and immensely not liking the smirk on her face.

“Drogon shall be my champion.” She told them, expression turning triumphant, her statement sending shivers down Tyrion’s back as he turned to look at her in shock.

Bronn laughed loudly, shaking his head and walked over to Tyrion to place his hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way the Dothraki drew their swords on him.

“I’m sorry my friend, but I cross the line at fighting a fucking dragon for you.” He left him then, turning his back on the dwarf and never looking back as he left the Dragonpit.

Tyrion felt defeated, he knew he would never be able to beat Drogon and he couldn’t think of anyone who would possibly champion for him that would stand a chance.

“I don’t suppose that you’d be my champion Mormont?” He japed lightly, knowing from the deep glower on his face that the joke wasn’t well received, which wasn’t a surprise coming from the humorless northerner.

“Believe me Imp, I’ll be rooting for Drogon the entire time. You lost my respect the second you tried to have Daenerys killed.” Ser Jorah snarled at him and Tyrion hadn’t expected anything less from the other man, but it still hurt as he had slowly come to see the other man as a friend.

“It seems no one will champion for you Lannister. You will fight for yourself then.” Daenerys declared, grabbing Ser Jorah’s arm and leading the both of them out of the center of the Dragonpit.

Tyrion heard Drogon before he saw the massive beast, the heavy beats of his wings as he landed in the center of the Dragonpit, his arrival kicking up sand and shaking the ground under his immense weight.

The people of King’s Landing panicked when they saw the dragon land, becoming more aggressive than he had been moments before, all of them running to keep as far away from the weapon of mass destruction that Daenerys called her child.

“H-hello Drogon. I-I’m not a very tasty snack so you really shouldn’t try eating...me...” Tyrion tried to talk to the dragon first, hoping that it would just fly away and he wouldn’t be killed by the large black monster.

_Although is it really Drogon that is a monster...?_ He thought as his eyes fell to the silver haired Targaryen that was grinning at him and the stoic man by her side.

“Dracarys.” Daenerys said, her eyes looking to her child in mirth as she leaned against the man next to her, her arm looped around his.

_Or is he merely a pawn being used by the true monster?_

Returning his gaze to the dragon, Tyrion’s heart fell when he saw Drogon’s maw open wide and smelt the telltale smell of sulfur and felt the intense heat that was able to melt stone, the air around the dragon giving off waves from the high temperature.

Tyrion screamed in agony as the dragon fire surrounded him, he was being killed by the thing he had asked his father for on his nameday when he was a young child and he found it ironic.

His last thoughts went out to Sansa, hoping that she would be smart and avoid the same fate that has befallen both him and Jon at the hands of the Mad Dragon Queen.

******

“Lady Sansa, a raven has just arrived.” The maester bowed, handing her the unbroken scroll, his chain jingling as he stood straight again and met her gaze.

“Dark wings bring dark words.” The lady of Winterfell sighed, hoping it was news from Jon about how everything went well down south.

Breaking the seal with a frown as she noticed it wasn’t Jon’s seal, but Lord Glover’s, Sansa felt apprehension build in her stomach.

_Lady Stark,_

_It is with my deepest regret that I must be the one to inform you of the murder of Jon Snow as well as the execution of Tyrion Lannister. The army_

Sansa dropped the paper before she finished reading the end and it fluttered to the floor as she covered her mouth and tears flowed down her cheeks.

“My Lady, is everything alright?” The maester questioned, bending down to pick up the scroll to read it himself, his face falling when he read the dark words indeed.

“That bitch killed Jon. She knew that Jon had a better claim to the throne and wanted him gone so he couldn’t claim what was rightfully his.” Sansa didn’t want to believe that Jon was truly dead.

And Tyrion, he was a nice man and had always treated her well.

Sansa knew that her telling Tyrion about Jon’s parentage led to his death and she regretting it knowing that.

“Oh gods, Arya went down to King’s Landing.” Sansa suddenly remembered, her eyes growing wide in fear.

The maester looked at her sadly, knowing how worried the poor girl must be for her only sister.

“Arya won’t be coming home.” Bran stated blankly, wheeling his chair in and meeting Sansa’s disbelieving stare.

“What do you mean, she isn’t coming home?” Sansa questioned, her voice full of denial and sorrow.

“She tried to get revenge for Jon’s death. Using Littlefinger’s face she attempted to lure Ser Jorah Mormont into a trap so she could kill him before killing Daenerys.” Bran said, staring at her with no emotion, even though he was talking about the girl that was, at one point, his sister too.

“Varys told the Mormont knight that Littlefinger died last year, so he caught on that something was off and killed who he thought was Littlefinger.” Bran finished and watched the way Sansa broke into tears and slammed her fists into the table.

“Damn them! Damn that throne! All it has brought us is death and misery.” Sansa screamed out in anguish, slowly slumping to the floor as she realized that, beyond whatever Bran had become, she was the last of the Starks.

She wished that she had tried harder to keep Jon in the north where he belonged, but he had fallen in love with the wrong woman and had been too blinded by it to see what she truly was.

And now he was dead.

She wished that she had been kinder to him growing up, her mother’s dislike for the supposed bastard boy rubbing off on the girl that Sansa had once been and she now regretted it, knowing that he had become one of the most important people in her life recently.

And now he was dead.

After a long while, Sansa pushed herself off the floor and straightened out her dress in an attempt to restore some semblance of normalcy to her.

“They’re going to pay for what they have done. Daenerys and Ser Jorah will be paid back for the wrongs they’ve committed.” She said to Bran and the maester, who was standing there uncomfortably but nodded anyways.

With a deep breath, she moved to leave the room, her hand poised on the door when Bran spoke again and froze her to the spot.

“If you walk down the path of revenge Sansa, it will not be Daenerys and Jorah that end up dead.”

She looked at him curiously, disbelief written on her face.

“What does that mean?” Turning around to face the boy that had at one time been her brother, she met his blank look.

“If you seek revenge on the Dragon Queen, you will not live and you will not achieve the justice you aim to bring.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she sighed, her eyes dropping to the floor as tears began to flow anew again.

“So you’re saying that they get away with murdering Jon, Arya and Tyrion and I just have to move on like nothing happened?” She asked painfully, part of her not wanting to believe Bran’s strange powers, but knowing that there was something there and she would be a fool to ignore his warnings.

“Move on, but never forget them, you owe them that much.” Bran turned his wheelchair around so he faced the fireplace and spoke no more, leaving Sansa to walk out of the room with a heavy heart.

*****

Light from the window filtered in and touched her face, waking her from her slumber.

With a yawn, Daenerys reached out across the bed to where her bear usually slept and found it cold and without a body.

Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she opened her eyes and saw what she had determined moments before and frowned deeply.

Ser Jorah wasn’t in bed next to her and it felt like he hadn’t been there for hours since the heat of him had dissipated entirely.

She slipped out of the bed and threw her robe on over her shoulders, brushing a hand through her hair before leaving the room in search for the man that should be in her bed.

Daenerys knew he sometimes suffered from night terrors and would take a walk out to the gardens to try and ease his mind, but when she searched the grounds, she couldn’t find any sign of him, so she returned to the keep and asked around.

With a heavy frown when none of the Unsullied or Dothraki had seen him since the previous night, Daenerys stormed back to her room, the door slamming shut behind her.

Huffing in anger, Daenerys sat on the chair in front of her mirror and looked at her reflection, her face turned down in a glower and her eyes dark with fury.

She ran her brush through her hair, silver strands coming out with each downward stroke.

_He’s left me._

_He’s no different than Varys or Tyrion or Jon Snow._

_Jorah’s betrayed me._

At that thought, she threw the brush at the mirror, shattering the glass as she stood up, the chair being knocked onto the ground with a clatter.

Gripping the edge of the table, Daenerys stared at herself through the cracked glass as she tried to reign in her temper, her reflection becoming blurred as her eyes began to water.

_Damn him._

_Damn him to hell._

_I loved him and he’s betrayed me yet again._

Heaving the table up with a scream, Daenerys knocked the glass covered table to the ground and she heard the guards at the door shuffle around, unsure whether they should enter and face her wrath.

_Go ahead and stay out there. I don’t need any of you anyways._

Turning from the destruction she caused, her eyes landed on Jorah’s fur lined coat and her fury reignited.

With a growl, she stormed over to the black garment, gripping it in her hands and stomped over to the fireplace meaning to throw the coat into the flames and be rid of it.

But as she stood in front of the fire with the one thing he’s left, Daenerys found herself unable to let it go, instead bringing it up to her nose to inhale his scent and bury her face into the fur collar.

Falling to her knees as his familiar woody scent hit her nose, she cried into his jacket, pissed at herself for having fallen in love so deeply with a man that had already shown her that he had it in him to betray her.

_How dare he leave me._

_He told me he’d always love me._

_He can’t leave me._

_I won’t let him._

Setting his coat on the ground, she made her mind up right then.

She was going to track him down and bring him back to her, whether he wants to return or not.

If she had to, she would lock him up in her room and never let him leave her again. She needed him, as much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She loves the way he worships her, the way he looks at her like she is a goddess and shows his devotion to her with his body in their bed. She loves his kisses, both his gentle ones and the wild, passionate ones. She loves the way he calls her ‘Khaleesi’ and his ‘Queen’, like there is no other woman in the world in the eyes of Jorah Mormont and she knows it to be true.

There will be no other woman for Jorah Mormont to love on, no one but her.

It was later into the day that Daenerys finally left her chambers, her hair still in disarray and her outfit haphazardly thrown together.

The Unsullied and Dothraki followed her warily, seeing her slip deeper and further away from the Khaleesi and Queen that they had known in Essos.

They followed her to the Dragonpit, not questioning her on what she was doing as they could take a guess.

Drogon looked at his mother curiously as she drew closer, dropping his head down to her to pet.

Running her hand over his scaly snout, Daenerys kissed her child’s nose and looked into his amber eyes.

“You’ve never betrayed me. You would never betray me my child.” She whispered, earning a chitter in return before she walked up his wing and settled herself onto his back.

Drogon seemed to know what her destination was without her saying, his emotions were in tuned with hers and he could feel her need for the man that had been with them since they were hatchlings.

Flying over King’s Landing, people down below screaming as they rushed indoors, the last time they had seen the dragon in the skies was the day King’s Landing burned and the wound from that hadn’t scabbed over yet.

To her surprise, the dragon landed just outside the city walls then turned his head back to look at her.

Daenerys crawled down his wing and onto the ground, her eyes finding Ser Jorah’s immediately.

“Khaleesi? What are you doing here?” Jorah asked, wiping off his bloody sword and replacing it back into the sheath, the Valyrian steel sword gleaming in the setting sun.

“You left me! You told me you would always love me yet you left me alone!” She screamed at him, closing the distance between them and slamming her fists against his chestplate angrily.

He reached up and gripped her wrists before she could hit him again, kissing her knuckles before pulling her to him.

“I didn’t leave you my love. There was just a small uprising of farmers that were causing a disturbance and I was asked to help deal with it.” Jorah told her softly, meeting her eyes gently.

“I would never leave you Daenerys, my heart is yours until my dying day.” She buried her head against his chest, not caring about the blood that now covered her cheek, blood from the impoverished farmer that had been begging for better conditions and more money for his family.

_“Please m’lord! I only wish for more money so I can fill my wife and children’s bellies. The Dragon Queen has given us nothing she promised. Is she as false as the Queen that sat before her?”_

With that accusation, the man had signed his death sentence.

_“You dare speak that way about the Queen? She has done nothing but bring good to this shithole of a city and no one here appreciates her sacrifices.” _Jorah had stabbed him through the gut and watched the man die slowly on the ground, choking on his own blood as the rest of the farmers scattered, running like beaten dogs with their tails between their legs after seeing the other man being cut down like an old hound.

“Prove it to me Jorah! Prove to me that your heart is mine!” She commanded, leaving Jorah at a loss as to what she was expecting of him in that moment.

Reaching out for her, Jorah wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her against him, his lips finding hers and he kissed her roughly.

She dug her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down closer to hers, never letting him go as they made out in the field outside King’s Landing.

When he pulled back to look at her, his eyes widened in surprise when she pushed him backwards until he laid on his back on the grass.

“W-What are you doing Khaleesi?” Jorah stuttered, looking up at her in confusion as she straddled his hips, her hands working on undoing his belt.

“You’re not an inexperienced man Jorah, surely you have some idea on what I’m doing.” Daenerys teased him, her tone a complete flip from what it had been moments ago when she was accusing him of betraying her.

“I have a pretty good idea on what you’re doing sweetling, but we are outside and the other queensguard are right over there.” Jorah paused her hand movements, releasing her hands when she shot him a furious look.

“Good, then they can make sure nothing happens while we are busy.” Daenerys shifted his breeches out of her way, grabbing his cock in her hand and smirking when he groaned in response.

“Daenerys...can’t this wait until we are back at the Red Keep?” Jorah about pleaded, his eyes kept drifting over to where the other men were standing watch, their backs thankfully turned to the Queen and her knight, although he could see the way some of the Dothraki queensguards were trembling in amusement at the ‘Andal’s’ embarrassment for doing something that they did often as fucking outside under the stars was a common occurrence in the Dothraki camps.

“No.” She stated firmly, sinking down onto him as she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her black dress, her head tilting back as she took him in.

Resting her hands on his chestplate, her fingers becoming slick with drying blood as she undulated her hips against his, her knees becoming grass stained as she braced herself above him.

“Fuck Daenerys.” Jorah panted, grabbing her hips and helping her along in her movements, his head resting in the grass as he moaned for her.

“T-that’s the i-idea Jorah.” Daenerys teased breathily, clenching down on him and earning a throaty groan.

Anyone could have come by and seen her queen fucking her knight, but she couldn’t care less what others saw. As long as she had Jorah at her side, nothing would bother her.

“Swear to me that you’ll never betray me Jorah!” Daenerys ordered or pleaded, he couldn’t quite tell as his mind was muddled by the way she rode him, grass and rocks pressing into his bare skin.

“I swear my Queen! I will never betray you!” He groaned loudly, feeling her beginning to tighten around him and he knew that she was getting close to her peak.

“Tell me that you love me!” She cried out loudly, grinding down on him almost frantically as his hold on her hips tightened.

“Gods I love you Daenerys Stormborn! I love you!” Jorah called out and her head fell back as she screamed in her climax, her cry echoing through the air loud enough that if his brain had been working in that moment, he would have known that people within the city walls would have been able to hear her cry of passion.

He followed her into his own release, his hips stuttering to a stop as she fell against him satiated and in a much better mood than she had been when she arrived.

Drogon curled around them, using his wings to cover them up and laid his head next to the couple, snorting out happily as his mother was much more calm and content.

His heartbeat thrummed underneath her cheek, playing her a song that was distinctly his as it raced along to the beat of love.

Nuzzling her nose against his chest, Daenerys hummed contently, glad to have her bear back at her side and she would never let him out of her hold again.

Jorah was hers and hers alone.

Whether he wanted her or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm going to preemptively apologize for the next two chapters, when I talked about pretty much everyone not having a happy ending...it was the next two that I had in mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter there is one more left. I once again, apologize for this chapter. When I started planning out this fic, this was not how I imagined it ending, but as I started writing...this chapter happened.

*****

** _Six Months Later_ **

_*****_

“Gods damn it Jorah!” Daenerys growled at him, her hips grinding against his cock in an attempt to get it up again.

“My apologies my queen, but we’ve fucked three times already and I’m not a young man any longer...but there are other ways I could help.” Jorah offered apologetically, watching with a heavy heart as she pushed herself off him and stormed over to pour herself a glass of wine.

With a sigh, Jorah sat on the edge of the bed, watching her pace around the room restlessly.

“I truly am sorry Daenerys.” He apologized again and she waved the sentiment away with her hand, her stormy violet eyes coming to rest on him.

Placing her goblet down, she returned to him, pushing on his chest until he laid on his back on the bed and she could straddle his hips.

Daenerys planted her lips on his, her fingers digging into his scalp and leaving bloody marks.

Working her way down his jaw, gentle kisses being pressed into his swarthy skin, she paused on his adam’s apple when he hummed curiously.

“Is there something bothering you Khaleesi?” He asked huskily, meeting her irritated gaze when she sat up to look at him.

“You know that there is already Ser.” She grumbled at him, getting off of him and standing back up, her arousal diminishing as he reminded her.

“Sansa?” Jorah questioned, though he already knew the answer as they had fought about it earlier in the day and Daenerys wasn’t one to forget so quickly.

Rolling her eyes, Daenerys grabbed her wine glass and took a long drink from it, draining the wine before refilling it.

“Yes, Sansa, what else?” She huffed, turning her violet eyes to her love who was pushing himself off the bed to stand and coming to stand next to her.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to fly to Winterfell to take her out, we don’t know if they have defense against Drogon.” He said, trying to reason with her, kissing the back of her neck and sending shivers down her back.

“We also don’t know if she doesn’t have defense and I feel like it’s a risk worth taking.” Daenerys argued as she leaned back against his chest, her arms holding onto his as they wrapped around her waist.

“It’s not worth it if you lose your life my love.” Jorah rebutted, staring at Daenerys as she shoved him away and she started pacing in the room, shooting him annoyed glances.

“I don’t like how she’s done nothing in the past six months. She’s planning something, I know she is. She’s going to try and have me killed, I just know it!” The silver haired Targaryen growled, glaring at Jorah when he tried to come closer to her, to try and calm her.

Sighing tiredly, he knew he shouldn’t try and argue with her when she gets like this, it never turns out good for the either of them, but he also didn’t want her to fly out on Drogon and take on Winterfell by herself.

“Daenerys...please, you don’t know that she’s plotting against you.” He rarely uses her name, but the few times he does, it never fails to get her attention.

“Besides, you have me by your side to protect you.” Jorah pointed out, taking another few steps in her direction, smiling gently when she didn’t move away from him.

“You can’t protect me from everything Jorah. What if she has you killed first?” Daenerys asked him, making a good point yet he continued to argue with her.

“Even if she does, you still have your Unsullied and Dothraki to protect you.” She rolled her eyes at him, her anger rising again as he refused to see things her way.

Couldn’t he see that she needed him by her side and wouldn’t be able to deal with losing him?

“And if they fail to protect me? What then Jorah? Will the ceiling just magically collapse on Sansa and end all of my problems?” Snapping at him, she walked over to her table that she sat at when she did her hair in the mornings.

She heard him sigh deeply and walk over to where she was at, standing behind her.

“I won’t watch you be reckless and fly to Winterfell...” She wheeled around to glare at him before he was even finished talking, her eyes shooting fury and anger at him.

“You think I’m reckless!?” Daenerys growled at him, ignoring the way his eyes grew wide and he tried to backpedal, but she didn’t let him say another word.

“You cannot order me around Ser! I will do as I please!” The way she intoned his title made him flinch back.

Meeting her gaze as confidently as he could in that moment, Jorah took a step towards her, reaching his hand out to rest it on her shoulder.

“Daenerys, if something were to happen to you while you are on Drogon...” He shook his head slowly, trying to tell her through his expression that he worried about her and loved her.

“I can’t sit back and let you do this.” Jorah finished saying, his hand finally touching her petite shoulder before he jerked back as she grabbed a vase from behind her and swung it at him.

The glass vase shattered against his neck, but the cold yet furious look on her face hurt him more, her eyes glaring at him with rage and hatred, something that she had never aimed in his direction, not even when she banished him from her side.

Blood began pouring out of his neck like a fountain, the glass from the broken vase having sliced into the skin on his throat, his hands jerking up to cover the wound and try to staunch the bleeding.

“Fuck!” He swore, his eyes panicked as he met her terrified gaze, her own hands coming up to try and stop the blood, her entire being shaking as the onslaught of blood didn’t seem to be slowing.

The emotions in her eyes quickly changed, terror and panic filling her previously anger filled gaze as the man in front of her bled profusely because of something she had done in a fit of rage.

Blood pounded in her ears as her adrenaline skyrocketed.

Mentally cursing herself for her mishap, Daenerys tried her hardest to get the blood to stop flowing, but whenever she placed a cloth or a blanket to his neck, it just soaked through and didn’t seem to slow at all.

“I-I’ll get the maester...” She said shakily as she gave up her endeavors and barely remembered to throw on her coat and grab her keys before she was out of the door and down the hallway to where Samwell Tarly was locked into his own chambers.

When she entered his chambers, Sam looked up at her in fear, quickly noticing the blood that covered her hands.

“Help, please! I can’t lose him.” She said panicking, her hands trembling and tears beginning to track down her face as he gathered anything he thought he might need to fix whatever she had done this time.

Following her down the hallway to her chambers, Sam froze at the sight he beheld.

Ser Jorah was naked and sprawled out on her bed, a pool of blood surrounding him as he coughed weakly, his blue eyes searching out his.

“Save him! Please, save him!” Daenerys begged Sam and for a moment, Sam wondered what would happen should Ser Jorah not survive this and the thought scared the Tarly.

Coming over to the knight’s side, he quickly found the source of the bleeding and was stunned.

Sam knew that if the cut was too deep, then there wasn’t any medicinal training that would save Ser Jorah from bleeding out.

Daenerys flitted around them both, her worried eyes watching over everything Samwell did to the love of her life.

When Jorah’s eyes rolled up in his head and he lost consciousness, she freaked out, falling to her knees and grabbing ahold of his hand, all the while screaming at Sam to save him.

Sam did what he could to save the old knight’s life, but he had lost a lot of blood and he wasn’t sure the older man would be able to recover from the loss.

_What an ironic way to die. _

_Killed by the woman who you’ve dedicated your life to protect._

Sam shook his head and gathered his equipment together, carefully leaving the room as a darker thought ran through his head.

_I could end it. Ser Jorah enables her destructive and paranoid tendencies. _

_I have the power to end his life and break a spoke on her wheel of madness._

Glancing back at the door as if he expected for her to have heard his inner thoughts, Sam sighed and returned to his chambers to sit in silence.

Ser Jorah killed Jon in cold blood on the orders of Daenerys. He killed Arya and Daenerys killed Tyrion, not to mention thousands of innocent lives

She was a tyrant and Ser Jorah was the bellows that stoked her raging fire.

They were fire and ice together, creating a Westeros that feared to even step outside their doors in case they get burnt by the one that had sworn to protect them.

*****

Daenerys didn’t leave Ser Jorah’s side for anything while he recovered from the accident that she created.

She took her meals in her chambers and ignored the servant’s pleadings for her to at least take a bath, but she could care less if her hair became greasy and messy.

So long that Ser Jorah drew breath in that unstable place between life and death, Daenerys would remain by his side.

It was on the fourth day that a light broke through the darkness inside her mind.

Jorah’s eyes fluttered open, searching for hers wearily.

“I’m sorry my bear. I’m so sorry.” She told him tearfully, grabbing his hand in hers and running her thumb over his knuckles.

“Don’t be. I’ll be fine.” He said, his voice raspy while tightening his grip on her hand slightly.

The love and affection in his eyes never wavered and for that, Daenerys was grateful.

Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his gently, her eyes slipping shut as her heart felt lighter than it had in what seemed like forever.

Samwell was brought in later to check over Ser Jorah and make sure that he was on the mend.

She watched as the Tarly looked at the gash on her knight’s neck, deeming it to be healing before giving Jorah a mixture to drink to help speed up the healing process and diminish any pain the knight felt from the cut.

Sam gathered his equipment and left the two of them alone.

Daenerys, at the insistence of Jorah, finally left to take a bath and wash away the grease and grime from the past days.

Enjoying the way her handmaiden’s scrubbed her clean, the gentle floral scent of the soap wafting through the air and hugging her body warmly, Daenerys giggled, wondering how long it would be before Jorah was up to making love again.

She had missed him dearly and was so grateful that he was getting better.

_No more arguing with Jorah, he was only was trying to protect me_, she swore to herself.

It wasn’t worth it, not after she nearly lost him over something so stupid.

Keeping her hair loose since it was nearing the end of the day, Daenerys slipped into her robe and dismissed her handmaidens for the evening, making her way back to her chambers where Jorah was waiting for her.

He was already asleep when she got there, so she tried her hardest to remain quiet as she padded across the room and let her slip fall to the floor before crawling into the bed next to him.

Pressing herself to him, she sat up in confusion and touched his forehead.

Jorah was oddly hot, his skin slick with sweat and his breathing wheezy.

“Jorah!? Jorah my love?” Daenerys shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up, but he was out cold.

Getting out of bed, she pulled on her nightgown again and headed to Samwell’s room, unlocking the door and entering.

“Sam?” She called out, the room pitch dark and lifeless.

Going into the room, Daenerys said the maester’s name again, the sudden realization that he was gone sending her into a flurry of panic.

Running out of the man’s chambers, she found the nearest Unsullied and grabbed his arm.

“Find Samwell Tarly and restrain him!” She yelled at the soldier, watching him run off to do as she ordered.

Turning to another Unsullied, she met his gaze fiercely as she slowly began to understand what had happened to Jorah.

“Find a maester!” The Unsullied took off as she returned to her chambers, finding Jorah worse off than when she had left him.

Whatever poison Tarly had given Jorah was quickly wreaking havoc on the northerner’s body, his gasping breaths and pained groans bringing fearful tears to her eyes.

Returning to his side, she placed her hand on his forehead again, a tear escaping at how hot the fever that coursed his body was running.

She sat on the bed next to him, setting a cold cloth on his head and one around his neck to try anything she could to cool him down.

Daenerys could do nothing but whisper sweet words in his ears, telling him it was going to be okay and that she loved him, as she watched his skin take on a yellowish tinge.

His pained groans echoed through their chambers and she silently begged for her Unsullied to return with a maester that would be able to heal him.

Kissing his brow softly, she pushed back his sweaty hair and grabbed his hand.

Nothing would haunt Daenerys more than the sound that Jorah made when he began choking, his bloodshot eyes shooting open and searching for her frantically, his hands clawing at his neck as if he was trying to remove whatever was blocking his airway, but was unable to as he gasped for air.

“Jorah!” She screamed, at a loss on what to do to help him as his body seized.

Daenerys pressed on his chest in a hope that she would be able to kick start his lungs into accepting air back into them, but with tears running down her face, she listened to him suffocate slowly, his breathing stopping altogether.

She turned to look at Jorah’s lifeless stare, to look into his distant and glazed over blue eyes as she slowly, oh so slowly came to the conclusion that it was too late to save him.

That her bear, the love of her life...

Was gone.

*****

“Lady Stark, a raven arrived.” The maester informed her, pausing at the way she sighed wearily.

Taking the scroll, she eyed the seal curiously, wondering why Samwell Tarly was sending her a raven.

Breaking the scroll open, Sansa was shocked by the news, dread filling her from head to foot.

“My Lady?” the man asked questioningly, feeling the way the air around them shifted.

“Ser Jorah has died, they say someone poisoned him.” Her green eyes met the other man’s in fear, though she could see that he didn’t understand the implications this brought.

“Without him by Daenerys’ side, who knows what she will do.” Understanding lit his gaze and she saw the way his expression began to mirror hers.

“What should we do my Lady?”

Sansa turned her gaze out the window with a heavy sigh.

“We wait and see.”


	5. Chapter 5

A primal scream echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, the staff avoiding the Queen’s chambers as much as they could.

Ever since Ser Jorah passed away, his body unable to fend off the strong poison that wracked through his blood and shut off his organs one by one until he eventually suffocated, Daenerys grieved over his dead body.

Resting her forehead on his chest again, she sobbed into his cold skin, her fist hitting his chest as if the motion would bring the air back to his body and he’d wake up and say her name, gently hold her and whisper to her sweet nothings and love her like he always has.

She pushed herself up to look down at his face, the sickly pallor that had come over him while he had still lived made him look gaunt and unlike the man she had known for years.

With another pained scream, Daenerys flopped her head down onto his collarbone, her forehead colliding with the bone hard.

She knew Samwall Tarly was responsible for Jorah’s death, she had watched him give Jorah a mixture that he said was supposed to _help _him.

Instead it killed him.

Sam killed her bear, her love.

Daenerys had Tarly imprisoned, his execution would be held at a later date.

Shifting up again, Daenerys ran her hand over his stubbly cheek, tears clouding her vision as she envisioned what he would say to her right now.

_“Make them pay Khaleesi. Make them pay with Fire and Blood.” _His gruff voice whispered to her.

With another choked sob, she nodded at his words.

Standing up, she pressed a kiss to his cold, purple lips, her hand brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“They will pay my sweet bear. They will pay for your death. I promise you this my love.”

Leaving her chambers, she looked to one of the Unsullied that was standing nearby.

“Watch over Ser Jorah while I’m gone. Make sure no one touches him.” The soldier nodded, turning to stand guard over the door as Daenerys made her way down to the dungeon where Samwell was being held.

Sam looked up at her when she came to stand by his cell, saying nothing to her.

“You poisoned Jorah. I ordered you to save him and you poisoned him.” Her voice was loud in the enclosed holding area.

“I did.” Sam admitted, the feeling of guilt that had been wracking his body over this fact still coursed through his body, but he knew he had made the right choice.

Daenerys’ face morphed into one of unadulterated fury and she growled at him, her hand slamming against the bars between them and making a loud noise that echoed.

“You saved him from greyscale! You saved him after the Long Night! Why did you kill him now!?” She roared at him, her words cutting Sam like a dragon claw, causing him to flinch.

He floundered for a few moments to find a reason that wouldn’t instantly have him beheaded, but couldn’t. Instead he looked to her, meeting her violet gaze as strongly as he could in that moment.

“Are you going to execute me?” He asked quietly, her eyes staring into his for a long while before she smiled widely.

“No. You know what Samwell Tarly? I’ll let you live for now.” He looked at her in shock and disbelief, though the saccharine way she spoke had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.

She leaned in close to the bars, as if she were letting him in on a big secret.

“I’ll let you live so you can witness everything you have caused.” With one last bright smile, Daenerys spun around and left him staring at her fearfully, unsure what she meant by her final words.

*****

King’s Landing screamed in fear and panic as Drogon swooped overhead, flames bursting from his massive maw and burning down the last six months of work that had been undergone to restore the city from Daenerys’ first attack.

But now, no one was spared as the gigantic dragon ravaged the city, destroying houses and people alike without discrimination.

_‘Make them pay my Queen. Make them pay in Fire and Blood. Burn them all! Kill them all!’_

Jorah’s imagined words rang in her head, sounding melodic with the backdrop of people screaming as they burned.

Once the only building left standing was the Red Keep, where Jorah was sleeping and Samwell was imprisoned, only then did Daenerys move on.

Turning Drogon north, city after city they burned, enacting their revenge on anyone that got in their way.

Stoney Sept, Lannisport, Gulltown, White Harbor.

One by one Drogon melted down their walls and left the people burnt to a crisp, the smell of sulfur and death following the Targaryen and her child everywhere they went.

*****

Head turning around to meet the maester’s worried gaze, Bran stared at the man for a long while before speaking.

“You may go now.” Bran returned his attention to the heart tree, its blood red leaves whispering in the wind as the face wept silently.

Alone with the weirwood, Bran felt he only had one objective left, one that would save Westeros from the true evil.

No one had ever warged a dragon, but he wasn’t just anyone.

He was the three-eyed raven.

Eyes rolling into the back of his head, the three-eyed raven felt his being lift from his physical form as he searched out into the darkness for the last of the dragons.

Usually, it was a quick transfer between minds, as simple as breathing. Warging into Hodor had been more of a struggle, but his feeble mind had worn down quickly and allowed Bran to take control.

And that had been before Bran had been stripped of his mortal being and became the three-eyed raven. He was much more powerful than back then.

Soaring above Gulltown, he found the Targaryen queen and her dragon.

The dragon would surely fight against him when he tried to take control, but with enough perseverance Bran was certain he would whittle away the dragon’s mental defense.

Entering the dragon’s head, he was immediately shoved out, the impact violent and jarring.

Again he would try, this time more prepared for the backlash from the beast.

Bran reentered Drogon’s mind, standing his ground as the dragon roared and shoved at his presence, this time the exit was less forceful and he felt that a few more tries and he would wear down the dragon’s walls.

Slamming into the beast from Valyria’s mind once more, Bran found himself trapped within a realm that no one had ever ventured to.

It was similar in ways to the places that he found himself in when trying to find the Night King, yet different in all the ways that mattered.

Fire swirled around him, burning his skin and leaving him blinded from the intense heat. Smoke filled his nose and made him cough violently as he tried to cover his face with his arms, trying to relieve some of the pain from the fire storm around him.

He was buffeted by hits of rage and terror, the manifestations of emotion felt as painful as physical blows to his body.

_Burn them all._

_Kill them all._

_Dracarys._

_Dracarys._

_Dracarys._

Covering his ears to drown out the booming screams that echoed from every direction, the voice singular yet sounded as if it belonged to thousands.

An overwhelming sense of sadness overcame him then, swallowing him in darkness as the fire diminished and he was surrounded by a gritty sandstorm that hurt no less than the fire had, the fine grains of sand cutting into his skin.

The air around him smelled of smoke and ash, reeking of despair and death, the voices calmed yet his ears continued to ring.

Suddenly, he was falling, the ground underneath him disappeared and Bran found himself within an icy coffin of water. He flailed around, trying to get to the surface as his lungs burned, but he couldn’t determine which way was up nor down.

Bran had grown up in the north, but the bone chilling cold he felt in that moment was unlike anything he had ever experienced, as if his internal organs were freezing.

Just as he was about to give up and let himself drown, thinking that dying would end this nightmare, he found himself plunged into a different body of water, this one warmer, yet never-ending like the one he had been in previously.

As he floated helplessly in the water, the salty liquid filling his nose and lungs, Bran thought back to his mother and how she would always tell him to not climb up so high on the walls of Winterfell and with a wry smile, he wondered it perhaps, he had climbed too high in his belief in his abilities and now he had a long way to fall back down to the ground.

_Dracarys._

The voice hit him like a raging inferno and he lay on the solid ground again, curling in on himself as he cried.

When would it end?

How could he end it?

This darkness that consumed him and refused to let him free?

_Fly away from here Brandon Stark._

_Fly little Raven. _

Lifting his head, Bran pushed himself from the ground and stood up straight.

‘I can fly. I’m the three-eyed raven.’

Taking a step, Bran stared straight ahead as the voice continued to talk to him, telling him to _fly_.

One step, another step and one more before Brandon Stark flew, before the Three-Eyed Raven spread its wings and its feet left the ground.

It was liberating, the air underneath his wings as the clouds around him flew up and above his head, the ground coming closer and closer.

The Three Eyed Raven grinned and his eyes rolled back in his head.

*****

“What’s happening to him!?” Sansa screamed at the maester, looking on in horror as her brother screamed and seized in his wheelchair.

“I-I’m not entirely sure my Lady.” Maester Wolken felt the air leave his lungs as the young boy started foaming at the mouth, his entire body convulsing.

Sansa watched as the maester did everything in his power to help Bran, but he wasn’t versed in the ill side effects of warging into a dragon and the chaos that it can wreak on one’s mind.

Bran stilled and Sansa had hope that everything would be okay.

Her heart skipped a beat when her brother’s face broke out into a huge grin and she startled when his body jerked one last time.

“Is...is he okay?” Sansa asked worriedly, scared as to what was happening to Bran.

The maester pressed his hand against the boy’s forehead, his fingers trailing down his face to rest on the boy’s throat.

Hand dropping down to his side, Maester Wolken turned an apologetic and sympathetic look to her.

“I’m sorry my Lady, it seems he has passed.”

Sansa couldn’t believe it.

He had seemed fine just this morning so she was at a loss as to what she had just witnessed.

A single tear rolled down her cheek for the young lively boy he had been.

“Have a pyre prepared. We’ll burn his body tonight.” She turned, leaving the man to do as she ordered, the knowledge that she was the last of the Starks hitting her hard.

Sansa wished she could return to a time where things had been simple.

A time where her father and mother lived and were happy. A time where her biggest problems were arguments with Arya. Back when Robb, Jon and Theon would laugh and smile together and little Rickon would follow one of his older siblings around, wanting to be the center of their attention.

But those were the wishes of a little girl and Sansa wasn’t a young, naïve girl any longer.

The world wasn’t kind to innocent girls, so she had to harden up in order to survive.

And she wasn’t about to let some Targaryen Queen kill her.

*****

Sansa knew this day was coming the moment she had received the raven stating Ser Jorah’s passing, she had long believed that he was the only thing keeping Daenerys’ sanity from breaking.

Now that he was dead, there was nothing to reign in the Targaryen’s fury and madness.

They say whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin.

It was obvious to everybody on which side Daenerys’ had landed.

Everyone in Winterfell kept their eyes on the sky, searching for the dark wings that brought death to any city they flew over.

Sitting in her solar, Sansa reread the most recent scroll that told her of the destruction of White Harbor.

_It’s only a matter of time before they make it to Winterfell._

With a tired sigh, the lady of Winterfell looked up at the man who rushed into the room, his face panicked and he didn’t have to say a word for her know what news he brought.

“She’s here.” She stated blankly, not even posing it as a question, hoping that her men already had the scorpions that Bran had seen in one of his visions before he died, loaded and ready for battle.

Their only line of defense against the Targaryen and her dragon.

Standing up, she followed the man outside, turning her eyes upwards and seeing the black figure in the distance that was quickly closing the distance to Winterfell.

Up on the battlements where women typically never stood, Sansa turned to her men, noticing the way they trembled at the sight.

“Take her out. Either she dies today or we all burn and Winterfell falls.” Sansa ordered, turning to look at the Dragon Queen as she started swooping down towards them, preparing for her onslaught.

*****

Drogon jerked to the side when a scorpion bolt shot past him, he remembered them taking out both of his brothers and he wasn’t about to let the same fate befall him and his mother.

Daenerys screamed in rage at the people of Winterfell, urging Drogon closer despite the added risk getting too close posed.

“Dracarys!” She yelled, laughing gleefully as smoke and flame hit the walls of the hold that had ruined her.

Down they dove, spitting fire onto the men that were manning the battlements, a flash of auburn catching Daenerys’ eye.

With a wicked grin, Daenerys set her focus on the Stark girl, turning Drogon in the direction of the woman who had contested her at every turn, even after she had sacrificed half of her army in a war that helped the north and left her in a weaker position.

Not to mention how she had almost lost Ser Jorah in the war against the dead, that would have been a huge blow for Daenerys and she had been grateful when he survived.

As her thoughts turned to Ser Jorah, she smiled softly, wondering how he was doing back home.

He was probably waiting for her, worried sick.

She knew he would chastise her for being gone for so long, but then they would embrace and he would make sweet love to her.

As Drogon screeched and tilted to avoid another bolt, Daenerys was dragged back to the present, her thoughts of Jorah shoved to the back of her head.

Violet eyes searched out the red headed Stark girl again and she angled Drogon in her direction, urging him closer.

Daenerys wouldn’t rest easy until Sansa Stark was dead.

Drogon screeched as another bolt flew past him, almost nicking his left wing before he tilted away from Daenerys’ intended target to get away from the threat for the moment.

As soon as Drogon had reached a suitable distance away from the scorpions, Daenerys maneuvered her child back towards the Stark and prodded him to move, feeling in her heart that _this_ may be the _one._

*****

Sansa felt a shiver run down her spine as she met Daenerys’ eyes, seeing the way the mad woman turned her focus on her.

Holding her head high, Sansa knew that, if she was going to die, she would do so with pride and honor, knowing that she had done everything in her power to take out the Mad Dragon Queen.

Every time someone loosed a scorpion bolt, Sansa held her breath as she watched it, hoping that it would hit the flying monster, but each time she deflated when Drogon swerved and the bolt flew past him.

Drogon would dive down, unleashing a burst of flame on another part of Winterfell’s battlements and Sansa would hear the men scream in agony as their flesh melted before it went silent, the only sounds that could be hear was the cold wintery wind blowing and the flapping of the dragon’s wings as he circled around, preparing for another strike.

Letting out a deep sigh of relief when, finally, one of the scorpion bolts hit its target, Sansa watched as the black dragon plummeted from the sky with a cry.

The men and women of Winterfell cheered as the dragon fell, but Sansa knew it was too early to be celebrating, they didn’t know if the bolt had been fatal.

Sansa watched many of the northern soldiers rush down the stairs and out of the gate to see if they succeeded in killing the tyrant.

They all froze when the dragon turned its massive head towards them in anger, his jaw opening to spew fire at them, making each of them turn and try running back inside the walls of the keep.

Sansa listened as the men that weren’t quite fast enough screamed in agony as they were set ablaze.

She knew then that they had failed in killing the dragon and they needed to prepare for the second round, a round she hoped that they could win and end Daenerys’ tyrannical rule.

What she wasn’t expecting though, was moments later when the dragon reappeared in the sky, its rider on its back as they flew over the battlements of Winterfell, unleashing another wave of flames with an angered scream.

Sansa may have thought herself one of the smartest people in Westeros, especially after out maneuvering Littlefinger and thought herself untouchable and strong after she survived Joffery, Cersei and Ramsey.

But Sansa found out, as she was engulfed in flames, smart or dumb, strong or weak...

Everyone burns the same.

*****

Crying out in pain as the tree branch that had lodged within her when she was tossed off Drogon’s back shifted in her side, Daenerys looked to Drogon pleadingly.

Blood ran down her side and soaked her brown riding pants as her ears began to buzz, her adrenaline rushing and keeping her from fainting from the immense pain that wracked her body.

Her eyes dropped down to the large stick that was poking through her side, it was about the same length as her forearm, though slightly thinner, but _damn_ did it hurt.

“Drogon, please, you have to get us out of here.” She begged, gritting her teeth through the pain as she pushed herself to her feet, her hand holding onto the branch as she straightened up as much as she could before the pain became too unbearable and she hunched over again.

Drogon cried out himself, shaking his shoulders and ripping the metal scorpion bolt from his wing socket before tossing it away in a fit of anger, his head dropping down to his mother with a soft whimper, his eyes blinking at her sadly.

Daenerys crawled up his wing slowly, settling herself on his back with a sob, the pain in her side excruciating.

Drogon took off from the ground, shakily trying to readjust his flight to compensate for his bleeding shoulder, jostling Daenerys while doing so and causing her to cry out as the branch shifted and tore open more of her skin.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of auburn and she slumped forwards slightly, whispering one word even though Drogon didn’t need to hear her order to unleash his fire upon the woman that his mother hated with her whole being.

After hearing the agonized screams of the Stark girl as she burned, she begged Drogon to fly back to King’s Landing.

Fly back to the Red Keep.

Back to Jorah.

*****

Sliding from Drogon’s back after he landed outside of the Red Keep, Daenerys let out a yelp as her feet connected with the ground, her landing jostling the branch that still stuck out of her.

With a scream that echoed through the empty courtyard, Daenerys ripped out the offending limb, blood pouring down her side.

Stumbling and shuffling, she made her way up the stairs of the Red Keep, her head spinning from the loss of blood.

She kept moving, she had to.

Jorah was waiting for her and she needed to see him.

He’d be upset with her of course, she had been gone a long time and gotten hurt while out, but he’d forgive her.

He always forgives her.

Pushing the door to her and Jorah’s chambers open, ignoring the way the Unsullied that guarded the room urged her to see a maester, Daenerys stumbled through the door and shut it behind her.

Jorah was right where she had left him.

Asleep on their bed, his face serene, if not a little paler than she remembered.

“Ser? My bear, I’m home. I’m home now, I missed you. Oh how I’ve missed you my sweet bear. But its fine, I’m home...” Daenerys whispered, crawling into the bed next to Jorah, droplets of blood from her wound leaving spots on the white sheets as she settled her head on his still chest.

Resting her head over his heart, she waited to hear the music of his heartbeat thrum under her cheek, her hand moving up his chest to lay by her head.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long, there was something I needed to do, but I’m here now. With you.” Speaking softly as if she didn’t want to disturb his slumber, she ran her fingers over his bearded chin and her eyes looked upon his tranquil face.

She was tired, so very tired.

Her eyes began to shut on their own accord, Jorah’s face becoming blurry and more distant as she placed her head under his chin.

“I missed you so much...” The Dragon Queen breathed out weakly.

Her chest never rose and her eyes slid shut as she joined her knight in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has read all the way to the end of this story, I still have to say I'm surprised at the number of people who were quite happy to see the death of all the Stark kids (which had been a point of worry for me when I started posting this story). Honestly, in the original story line I wrote, Sansa and Bran were still alive but I ended up changing that when I realized that people didn't really have an issue with them dying.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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